


Saudade

by YsaX64



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21729352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YsaX64/pseuds/YsaX64
Summary: Saudade – A somewhat melancholic feeling of incompleteness. It is related to thinking back on situations of privation due to the absence of someone or something, to move away from a place or thing, or to the absence of a set of particular and desirable experiences and pleasures once lived.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	Saudade

**Author's Note:**

> i made myself sad with this one

_For Edelgard von Hresvelg,_

_Today was a good day._

_The clouds were white and fluffy. Despite the fact that I could never see the shapes you claimed to clearly distinguish, I admit that a few seemed like sheeps and birds. The sky was blue and bright, just a quiet summer day. You would have liked to see the pegasi flying overhead. I fed the ducks on the lake, although I can't help but wonder if they felt your absence. Perhaps they miss the extra loaf of bread you brought with you._

_Regardless, the least I can do is write it so that you will be able to imagine yourself._

_Besides that, I went to the nearby village to buy some supplies. I know, I do it rather often. One can never be so sure and the years of Minister made wary in this regard. Nevertheless, the people there seemed to be less jumpy around me._

_You were always the one to talk to them._

Hubert grunted, scratching the last line.

_They have sent their condolences._

_I answered them with as much grace as I could muster. They have fond memories of you. I believe some of them had their suspicions that you were the former Emperor – there aren't many women with white hair in Fódlan and the other one is still battling for her own life. Independent if they knew it or not, they wished the best for you._

_The rest of the day proceeded as usual, even if a bit._

The quill stopped, the ink dripping down forming a black dot. Hubert took another breath.

_rough._

_It wasn't as rough as the days when the former Black Eagles visited, one by one, to pay their respects. But today I was putting the sweets on the shelves and I remembered to not put them too high so that you could reach it if you needed to._

_I always knew that you used to steal the sweets during the night. How could I not notice when they were consistently missing? Regardless, I always put it on the same shelf, the same shelf that it was the tallest one that you still could reach_

The line stopped abruptly. Hubert took a breath. Then another. A third and he continued to write.

_Still, there were still other things to do during the day. I cleaned up and left everything pristine. It is easier to do so when living alone, I have come to discover these last two months. It had been enough of a shift to do such chores once we moved away from Enbarr and now there was another shift._

_I admit I don't think I'm handling it all well. I have never been the best at expressing my feelings. But there is no point hiding it anymore, is there? There is this lingering feeling of loneliness, dread, yearning. All so similar to nostalgia, but not quite._

_I hate nostalgia, as you know so well. But this that I feel is not nostalgia. Far from it. I do not wish to come back to our younger years. Those years are good and I appreciate every memory I have of you._

_What I wish is for you to be here, with me._

A stray, stubborn droplet fell on the paper but the quill didn't stop.

_I have no place in this world of peace we have created. All of my life has been in your service and I loathe to admit but I have few talents. My only proper skills are on dark magic, which would consume me whole if I were to try using it in such an emotionally frail state, as much as it makes me curse my weakness._

The quill trembled once again, leaving a mark of blurred ink.

_The rest of my talents lie on how to make a man suffer and die, how to hear secrets and how to use my reputation to favor you. I have little else. The world we lived before was cruel and it shaped a cruel man with knife and blood and magic. And now that world is dead._

_I have no qualms saying that it was a good thing. This is a world in which Petra can shake hands with your successor without fear of retaliation against her people. The borders are secure and our people are thriving. Claude can visit and pay his respects. F_ ó _dlan's Throat became a trading route rather than the dangerous border it once was._

_Yet I'm the one who is selfish enough and greedy enough to want you back because you were all that I_

Cut that line. He crossed it. Then he crossed it again and again.

_It is always a delight to see how Fódlan grew and flourished._

_But this world doesn't feel mine now that you are gone._

Hubert groaned in frustration, craning his neck up and pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Why did he have to stop himself? She was gone. Dead and buried, killed by the same bloody, senseless enemy that she had worked so hard to purge out of Fódlan. 

He glanced down, eyes straining in the low light of the candle. It was late and he was making bad decisions. But why should he care?

Edelgard was dead.

Whatever he said wouldn't matter. Good or bad.

_Ever since I made my decision to walk alongside you, I promised that I would lay my life for you. I even expected to do so. Not that I didn't wish to be here to see you thrive, but even then there was this underlying expectation on my part that the lineage of the Vestra would end with me, sacrificing for your future. I would have done it if I could._

_I knew you would be gone soon and I wanted you to see just a bit more of the peace you created._

Hubert dropped the quill, burying his face on his palms. For a moment, the only sound was the flicker of the candle and the strong beat of his heart.

A moment passed. 

As if recovering his composure, Hubert picked up the quill again.

_I know too much is never enough when it comes down to wishing for one more second, one more hour, one more day. The days turn into weeks and the weeks into years._

_And yet if I had one more moment with you, I would say just one more thing._

_I love you. I always did._

_Yours truly, Hubert von Vestra._

The moments writing the last paragraphs were a blur and so were the moments after it. 

When Hubert came back from whatever unearthly realm his conscience had been thrown into, he was standing up in front of the letter, eyes barely believing in what he had before him. The chair was unceremoniously toppled on the floor and even the candle hesitated and flickered.

His heart beated fast and hard on his chest, dreading words that he could not have written, except on an insane impulse of emotion.

Hubert grunted, running his fingers through his hair, once, twice, thrice. What was the point of that confession? Hubert was long past the point of straight denial, but his rational side knew it was useless to blurt out such old feelings to a piece of paper.

She didn't feel the same. Never had.

And to admit otherwise would be the same as to admit that he had made a mistake he could not correct. And that would be unforgivable. Hubert truly wouldn't know what to do with himself if that was the case.

On the off chance that he was mistaken. Which he wasn't.

Still, the grips of that nostalgia, that dread, that yearning, that _love._ Forbidden words, all mangled together in a chimera of an emotion. It wasn't any of those emotions by themselves, not truly.

Nostalgia was a passing thought, a fleeting moment of looking back and wishing for what there was no more. Dread was hard and fast, so unlike the lingering feelings that had become shackles on his wrists, ankles and neck. Yearning was this fickle thing, like a gust of wind on one's face. And love – how was he supposed to describe it when he'd had no way of learning?

And yet something primal within him knew it was all of them and none of them. 

Just a gnawing urge, a permanent longing that he couldn't erase. Perhaps that was the price to pay for having had the privilege of serving Edelgard and having her close until the last of her days.

Hubert grunted and, without a word, settled the new letter on the drawer, alongside the other twenty-nine, one for each previous day of the last month.

It had been Bernadetta's idea. Bernadetta, who had always feared him like mice scurrying away from a sleeping cat. The small girl who had been the first to find him in his solitude and had suggested him to write letters to Edelgard so she could always be with him.

Hubert had to wonder if, even on that day, when he was so fragile and brittle, Bernadetta had felt any fear when looking at him.

The man grunted. An owl took flight outside. The candle's flame died on its own, an ill omen that prompted him back to bed.

His chest felt lighter, having written _it_ down after so long without saying a word. Hubert tried to not think about what could have been. All he could think about was about bringing a loaf of bread to the lake the next day, so he could feed the ducks. 

Perhaps the ducks would be good listeners.

And he also could wait for the next letter he would write for her. Yes, that was thought that he could carry to the realm of dreams, where he could freely think of possibilities that never came to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/Comments/Feedback are always appreciated


End file.
